Harry Potter and the Mysterious Benefactor
by Smirking Menace
Summary: What if Dumbledore did not risk Harry's safety at all and instead taught him by owl? How would it shape Harry and the wizarding world?
1. Prologue: Grave Decisions

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot, every character or setting you may recognize belong to JK Rowling.

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Mysterious Benefactor**

**By Smirking Menace**

_**Prologue: Grave Decisions**_

Albus Dumbledore had a difficult decision to make.

The last few days were a nightmare, the dreaded prophecy made by Trelawney the year before having finally become true two nights before when the Dark Lord Voldemort attacked the Potters, killing James and Lily to finally be defeated when he tried to turn his wand on young Harry. Like the prophecy had foretold, that act marked the toddler as Voldemort's equal and banished the dark wizard from the realm of the living. Alas, that banishment would not last long, as Albus suspected that the vile man had created Horcruxes and if his fears were founded, young Harry was now one of them as well.

He had to hide him. Lily's sacrifice would provide the perfect sanctuary for the last Potter.

Thus he was here, in the darkened street of Privet Drive where Lily's sister, Petunia, lived with her husband and son. The night was cold and windy, urging him to conjure a few extra blankets on Harry before putting the young boy on the doorstep of the house labelled with the number four, the only thing distinguishing it from it's neighbours. Putting an additional warming charm on Harry's basket, he also put a letter he fervently hoped would secure the lad a decent childhood into the boy's basket.

It pained him but he would only see the boy again on his seventeenth birthday when the blood wards around 4, Privet Drive would finally fall. He could not risk the boy near any danger before he was ready and would therefore provide him with his education by owl post.

It was the only way. It HAD to be the only way... The future of the world depended on the survival of the Boy-Who-Lived.

* * *

Petunia Dursley was a woman of routine, so much so that the merest hint of a deviation from said routine was enough to make her screech at said deviation until it had gone away. A baby left on her doorstep could not go away by screeching, she knew.

It did not prevent her from trying.

After a whole minute of indignant screeches, the horsey woman finally came back to herself enough to remember that she was surrounded by extremely noisy housewives and should therefore hide the unknown and _abnormal _addition to her household in her home until her husband, Vernon, would take it away as was his duty as the head of the upstanding and normal Dursley family. The peer of suspiciously familiars green eyes only urged her to put the little freak away faster.

Quickly taking both the babe, the usual morning milk and the newspaper in her bony arms, Petunia closed the front door with her foot after making sure that no one was looking at the _strange _display made by the appearance of what she guessed was her nephew on her doorstep and made her way to the kitchen as fast as she could. Dumping her burdens on the isle, she closed all the bind on her windows and shushed her darling Duddykins with a treat before fetching her husband, but not after a glare full of loathing on the now awake raven haired toddler.

A grumbling Vernon soon followed her downstairs, his vast bulk making the stairs creak as if they would give out any moment now. A cup of tea and an hearty English breakfast later, the walrus of a man was alert enough to be as indignant and upset as she was, hitting the table with his big fist and glaring and yelling for all he was worth as he glared at the young Harry. The young boy merely smiled a toothless smile and presented them with a heavy letter with a giggle, brandishing the bundle of parchment around like a toy air-plane. Frowning and quickly becoming purple, Vernon snatched the letter away from the child's grasp, cutting his tiny finger on the edge of it in the process and making Harry cry. That cry soon attracted they Dudders' own wails, ending up in a cacophony of despair as Petunia frantically tried to sooth he child while ignoring her nephew. As the children cried, Vernon read, becoming red, then purple, then white as a sheet to finally become green as he put down the letter on the kitchen table with a defeated sigh.

"Pet, we have a problem" Vernon said to his wife as he gestured to the letter in green ink laying innocently on the table.

Curious, Petunia picked up the letter after soothing Dudley and started to read, still ignoring her nephew as he was reduced to soft sniffles and sobs as he cradled his bleeding left hand. The letter was shocking.

_Dear Petunia,_

_I am chagrined to announce you that you sister Lily and her husband James have passed away, leaving their son Harry as an orphan._

_I know this is shocking and am sorry that I could not stay longer to explain to you what I will now write in this letter: You are in danger, the Dark Lord Voldemort was defeated by your nephew and left his followers desperate for a scapegoat to blame for their master's demise and will therefore try to harm you and your family for your relation to Lily, that I believe is the true defeater of Voldemort. That man's demise is unfortunately only temporary however, and I have therefore taken steps to erect a blood ward powered by Lily's love for Harry to protect for him and your family._

_I leave your Harry James Potter in your care and hope that you will treat him as you would your own son. This is very important that he stay in your home, your lives depends on it!_

_For now I will leave you be for the next few years and hope you will take good care of Harry for the next sixteen years. I will contact Harry on his periodically until his eleventh birthday, when I will start teaching him about his powers and how to control them so as not to cause you any trouble._

_My condolences,_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore._

_PS: I have taken the precaution to add Harry's birth certificate and medical history to this letter, use it well._

She could not believe it, Lily, dead? Couldn't her good for nothing husband take care of her and her son enough to prevent such things from happening and disturbing her perfectly normal life?! Of course not, Lily and that layabout got themselves killed and landed their freak of a son on her doorstep because they could not be bothered to make a proper will like sane, normal people! Where was that nasty boy from Spinner End? Why didn't he take the boy with him? Was he dead, too? No matter because her family was now in danger!

"What should we do, Dear?" Asked Petunia to Vernon, wringing her hands on her apron as her nephew finally settled in an exhausted sleep.

"I don't know, Pet... it seems that throwing the freak away would put us in danger." Said the rotund man as he sighed.

They had a grave decision to make.

* * *

As soon as he was back in his office, Albus wrote a letter to Arabella Figgs, a squib and a member of the Order of the Phoenix to look after young Harry as he could not do so without attracting the attention of some still roaming Death Eaters or even worse, the Ministry. He had to be inconspicuous in the affairs of the young Potter from now on if he wished for the boy to stay hidden until he was of age and able to defend himself. It was vital and in the best interest of all. He thus penned a letter and sent Fawkes, his familiar, to deliver it to the old widow and urge her to buy a house near Privet Drive and make sure that Harry was well taken care of.

It was the only thing he could do for now...

* * *

**AN: Here it is, I hope you will like this foray of mine into the Harry Potter fandom! Please Read and Review! Next up is Chapter One: Gardening Tips!**


	2. Chapter One: Gardening Tips

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot, every character or setting you may recognize belong to JK Rowling.

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Mysterious Benefactor**

**By Smirking Menace**

_**Chapter One: Gardening Tips**_

Young Harry Potter's first five years of life passed more or less like a drama movie with himself fed barely and clothed by his fat cousin's overlarge clothing. His uncle and aunt nevertheless never raised their hand against him, a feat that his cousin did not manage, the bully that he was. Life was glum but bearable however as Harry was introduced to gardening.

Though one of his first of many chores, gardening was soothing to the child as it permitted to get away from his hateful relatives and even make some friends. Indeed, the boy soon find himself befriending bugs and even some strangely talkative snakes that lived in the buses and flowerbeds of 4, Privet Drive. He did not speak a word of it to his relative in fear of them taking his friends away, of course. One learned of such things quite fast when constantly presented by proof of cruelty, after all...

Thus he learned to plant flowers, weed the garden, apply fertilizer, prune the trees and bushes and finally water the various plants surrounding the house he found himself living in. It was relaxing and peaceful work; that is until he started being visited by owls carrying letters in board daylight.

It started simple enough, with a letter falling on his head from the sky, the paper heavy and unlike anything he had seen in his short life and the ink a vibrant green that he had only seen in his own eyes when he sneaked a peak in the bathroom mirror before he had to start his chores. The penmanship was an elegant affair of straight lines and looped curves, attractive to his six years old mind. He was finding himself lucky that he learned how to read from necessity half a year ago. It would surely help him when he would attend school... right?

_Dear Harry,_

_I hope this letter finds you in good health and spirit as I can not look after you as I would prefer for security reasons. You see, very bad men are looking for you and I put you with your relative on you mother's last act of love towards you to protect you all. _

_Do not panic! As long as you are with you relative, you will be safe from all harm. You see, your mother was a powerful witch, a woman of great strength and beauty that lost her life saving you from the most evil man on this earth!_

_Be proud of her and honour her life's sacrifice by living well and listening to your aunt and uncle, as everything will right itself one day._

_Now that this warning is out of the way, I must tell you about yourself. You see my boy, you are a wizard._

_You don't believe me, do you? I wager so, and must urge you to remember if anything strange happened to you when you were angry, afraid or merely wanted it enough. Such things did happen, didn't it? That is why you must be careful of both your emotions and what you wish for!_

_Please to be careful with your power, as I understand that most of those who do not possess it are not very fond of it!_

_Now my boy, I was urged to write you by a friend of mine who you know. She said you have taken a liking to gardening! That is very good as gardening will lead you to be an able student of Herbology, the care of magical plants._

_I have taken upon myself to send you a small pamphlet explaining the basic of that subject, please read it and use it well!_

_Your Mysterious Benefactor._

As soon as he finished reading the letter and mouthing the words he did not understand until he did, Harry ran to his aunt, desperate for some explanations as she always told him that his parents were taken away by drunk driving.

He did pocket the pamphlet, however, as it was an interesting piece of knowledge. Not to mention that it was _his_.

Entering by the back door leading to the kitchen, Harry sought out Petunia near the stove. As she saw him, she scowled and snapped:

"What are you doing here, boy? You did not finish the garden, surely!" She always was like vinegar with him, a perfect opposite of the honeyed tones she used for her son, Dudley.

"Look at this!" He snapped back in a rare show of annoyance, brandishing the first letter he had ever received like it held the secret of the universe. And it did, to him. "You lied to me!" He bellowed, hurt and still betrayed though he knew he should have known better. He would rather believe the letter from a stranger than the horrible things his aunt said about his parents.

"Let me see that, where did you steal this, you little..!" The way Petunia paled was damning to the young wizard, and he knew them without a doubt that everything in the letter was true.

"You knew... this is true, isn't it?" Harry whispered, his upset making the windows shake as if a strong wind was passing trough them. It happened when he was really upset... that mysterious person was right.

"We'll have none of this freakishness in this house." Petunia merely said as she took away his letter and walked up the stairs, possibly to make a phone call to her husband.

"Give it back!" Harry yelled, desperate to keep his first letter. The horsey woman merely snorted and continued her journey, ignoring her nephew with a shake of her blond head.

'It's not fair...' The young boy though, ' I wonder if I could filch it tonight?' That last though made him feel better and he got back to work, checking on his remaining pamphlet every time he thought about it while gardening and chatting with the local garden snake at the same time. He had to be quiet, though, his aunt disliked it when he talked to snakes.

* * *

Night fell on the tidy street of Privet Drive, the Dursley apparently thinking that ignoring their nephew and the fact that he now knew they had lied to his was the best solution. They therefore promptly forgot about the whole incident, permitting the boy to filch the letter on the kitchen counter when they were busy eating and hide it in his humongous shirt.

Secreting a candle and a match into his cupboard, Harry made sure to wait until he heard his relative snore before lighting his candle, the candlelight lighting up his pitiful living quarters and equally dreary roommates, a few spiders that had taken refuge from Aunt Petunia with him. He liked them well enough, but couldn't help but think that it was a good thing that they were not bigger than they were. He didn't fancy becoming dinner, after all!

Safely cottoned in his ratty blankets, he slowly opened the fine pieces of parchments, lovingly tracing the lines on the diagrams in the pamphlet and the fine lettering in the letter.

The pamphlet seemed to change in herbological subject seemingly at random in a way that Harry couldn't help but think was magical. Passing from basic planting tips to how to use dragon dung to how to trim a Devil's Snare, whatever that was. It was brilliant and Harry couldn't be happier as the night grew darker. He finally had to extinguish his candle and hide his treasures in a dark corner of the cupboard under the stairs he called his room as he grew sleepy. He had to wake up early tomorrow after all as it was his first day at St. Grogory's Primary School, where he would hopefully learn many more extraordinary things.

He had to dream, right? Dudley couldn't hurt him there, couldn't he?

As he fell asleep, Harry dreamt of moving trees and talking plants, of a garden where only good could exist and where he was free from his relatives.

He dreamt of magic and freedom.

* * *

**AN: This one was slightly shorter than the prologue but I will do my best to make the next one both far longer and exciting as a result! Stay tuned for _Chapter Two: Academical Practices_!**


	3. Chapter Two: Academical Practices

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot, every character or setting you may recognize belong to JK Rowling.

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Mysterious Benefactor**

**By Smirking Menace**

**Chapter Two: Academical Practices**

Harry woke up at the crack of dawn, ready for his first school day when his aunt knocked at his door, hissing for him to go make breakfast. That chore was still new for him, and he so far only made breakfast and snacks for Dudley as Aunt Petunia did not trust him to do anything fancy yet. It was a miserable routine of cooking and cleaning after his piggish relatives, but the boy did not know anything else and, for him, it was a normal thing to do.

Today was different in that he would make Uncle Vernon and Dudley's lunches. He, of course, would have to make due with the school's cafeteria. Dudley had made sure to tell him how awful that was, that one kid was sick for a week after trying the Wednesday's Special. He hoped that was a lie like the time Dudley said Freaks weren't allowed at school. At least, with Dudley being a year older, Harry was secure in the fact that he would not see him so much in class. He could count his blessings, right?

He was nervous... he wanted to be liked at school and was afraid that he would be nothing more than a freak there, as well. So he applied himself to his morning chores, trying to forget about his fearful thought by applying mustard and ham and entertain himself by making faces at his reflection as he cleaned the windows. Soon, it was time to go.

Armed with a beat-up schoolbag filled with one measly notebook and half a pencil, he put on a brave face and steeled himself for this brave new world he hoped he would find.

The walk to school was eventful, to say the least, Dudley's friends from last year chasing him all the way to school, threatening to beat him up. He was faster though, and succeeded in evading them.

Then came the schoolyard, a small plot of asphalted land filled with children from four to eleven years of age. Harry was sad to have missed both Reception and First Year, but Aunt Petunia had said that he was too sickly to go, though he was apparently sturdy enough to weed her garden all day. It was strange how Mrs. Figg's reaction to him missing school made his aunt register him to the school, though...

Even though he was older than his future classmates, he was still one of the smallest present. It embarrassed him, but Harry couldn't do anything about it, not with his meagre meals, at any rate. Reaching deep into himself for some form of courage, he walked into the sea of children, seeking a friendly face that he could, maybe, befriend and play with.

Looking around, he found such face in the person of a small boy, nearly as small as he that was playing with a ball near the brick wall of the school. Timidly approaching, Harry smiled shyly at the boy and opened his mouth only to be pushed aside by his fat cousin who proceeded to alienate Harry from the entirety of the student's population, saying that the piggish boy would beat up anyone who was nice to his 'freak of a cousin'.

Harry's first day was not a good one. Not only did Dudley manage to alienate him from the other children, Harry was apparently advanced enough to go to the same class as his cousin, meaning that he would now be tormented day and nigh with the stupid 'pig in a wig', as he started to call him in the sanctuary of his mind. Reading and counting were enough to become a second grader, to Harry's despair. If only Dudley wasn't such a dunce and had not been forced to retake his first grade!

Full of doom and gloom, the small boy made his way back home and announced the dreaded fact to the Dursley, afraid of how they would react to the news. As expected, they did not like it, especially his cousin who made a show of displaying his displeasure to the whole family with great sobs and screams complete with a tantrum on the floor of the living room. The adults, livid, could not do anything as the school was the sole judge of a child's abilities. They were all stuck on the irremediable fact that Harry would be Dudley's classmate come tomorrow. Thew added list of chore and reduced amount of food he received that night made Harry swear to himself that he would never again show his true intelligence... until he was free from Dudley's fat shadow, at any rate. He could only hope for secondary school, now.

That night, in the dark solace of his cupboard, the young boy fervently wished that the years until he would be free of the Dursley would pass as swiftly and as painlessly as possible for him. He also hoped for more letters and maybe, if he was good, a few more interesting pamphlet. If he impressed his benefactor, he or she would surely take him away, right? He could only hope, in any case.

Years slowly came to pass, with Harry receiving two more letter, one with a booklet outlining Magical History and the other with a complete Star Map with various explanation as to what star and constellation meant for Astronomy, a subject he gladly studied further in the school's library during recess. Modern history, the mundane equivalent to his booklet, he also studied when he had difficulty sleeping at night when his relative snored too loudly. He coasted through his other studies, afraid of doing too well and being punished again but unwilling to utterly fail. As a last resort, he took to studying ahead and purposefully giving out bad answers in enough quantity to be barely passing. This attitude did not make friends of his teachers, especially when he kept accidentally changing the colour or their hair and skin and the size of their clothing to his utter mortification.

Time finally came for his eleventh birthday, with the last ding of the clock at midnight summoning what he assumed to be an owl who pushed a letter in the crack of his cupboard door as Harry was drawing a birthday cake for himself on the dusty floor. Under the faint candlelight, the parchment nearly glowed, the familiar emerald green handwriting calling to the child like a siren's call in the gloom of his makeshift room. Unlike the previous letter, this one was without any educational material, though made his heart hammer in his chest in anticipation.

_Dear Harry,_

_I hope this letter finds you in good health and permits me to be the first to wish you a happy eleventh birthday!_

_You see, a wizard's (or witch!) eleventh birthday is a special thing in the magical world as it is the time that he or she will properly start their magical education at the school appropriate for their skills and location. Unfortunately, I cannot abide for you to go to such a school._

_Do not fear however, as I will personally see to it that you become a fantastic wizard worthy of the title of the Boy-Who-Lived. The first step towards that goal is getting you a wand; a momentous occasion in any magical being's life. I have arranged for Arabella Figg to bring you with her to Diagon Alley, where she will have you fitted for a wand. You will no doubt see her soon, my boy, and she will explain everything to you then._

_Until then, take care!_

_Your Mysterious Benefactor._

Excited at the prospect of learning "real" magic, Harry barely managed to get enough sleep to function that night, his mind coming up with countless fantastical scenarios of what would happen the next day when Mrs. Figg, the strange cat lady he now knew to be somehow involved in the magical world, would babysit him. Was she a witch? That would make sense with all the strange cats that she had! He couldn't wait! He did finally fall asleep, sleeping three hours before being awakened once more by his aunt and being forced to make breakfast. After two burned eggs caused by Harry falling half asleep or getting lost in though, Petunia screeched for him to go to Mrs. Figg without eating anything. With a big grin he tried to hide, Harry gladly did as he was told, ignoring his groaning stomach as he was wont to do in those cases.

Nearly skipping to the old widow's house, he knocked on the door and waited impatiently for the woman to greet him. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to his young mind, she did.

"I've been expecting you, young Harry." She said with a cat draped on her shoulders, gesturing for him to enter her abode.

Harry's entry into the magical world was about to start.

* * *

**AN: Stay tuned for _Chapter Three: Diagonal Shopping_!**


	4. Chapter Three: Diagonal Shopping

_**Disclaimer:** Everything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling._

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Mysterious Benefactor**

**By Smirking Menace**

**Chapter Three: Diagonal Shopping**

Comfortably half buried in kneazles on a lumpy winged chair, Harry was currently gaping as Mrs. Figg, the old woman that he thought he knew told him that she was a Squib sent by his benefactor to keep an eye on him and make sure he was not too mistreated. The boy was secretly angry at that fact, as surely Mrs. Figg could have made his time in her home less miserable but no! She said that she had to make it so that he would not have a good time in case the Dursley wizened out! Surely she could have told him what was needed for him to come back and treat him well? He was pretty good at hiding what made him happy with the home he was forced to live in... he told her so.

"Really? I... never though of that... are you sure?" She answered hesitantly in a way that made him think if all those cats had not affected her mental acumen. That was unkind, he knew, but he never was one for kindness when angry. He was furious.

"Yes, really. We just have to lie to them, god knows that they lie enough to me!" He snapped, green eyes aflame before taking deep breath. No need to alienate the woman now, he just had to take advantage of her guilt and make sure such thing never happened again. Besides... now that she knew, she would tell his benefactor and do something about it, surely? He sure hoped so!

"I'm sorry, Harry... I... I had no idea... why would you think they lied to you?" Mrs. Figg said, wringing her wrinkled hands nervously.

"They told me my parents died in an accident and that they were layabout drunks." Harry hissed with a contemptuous glare at the thought of the lie that still infuriated him even after all these years.

"What? But Dumbledore...!" With that strange word, the old woman's eyes widened, he hands lifting as if manipulated by strings to come clench on her mouth in a painful-looking manner.

"What is a 'dumbledore'?" The young boy asked suspiciously, his eyes half closing in suspicion. That word seemed important somehow, and he would find out about it!

"Never mind, child, we mustn't be late!" Figgs said nervously as she stood from her chair to the displeasure of half a dozen cats and reached for two pouches, one filled with what seemed like gold coins and that other with dark powder of a shimmery green. Both object were of great interest to Harry, who had never seen anything like them.

Swiftly walking to the lit fireplace, a strange thing in the end of July, the woman took a pinch of powder and gave it to him after asking him to followed her with a toss of her grey head.

"This is Floo Powder," she said as if it explained everything, "Put that pinch in the flames, when they turn green, stand in them and clearly say 'Leaky Cauldron', don't worry, this is a mean of magical transportation and won't burn you at all! Just be sure to keep your limbs close to you body, no need to get lost, now!" She said, chucking and frightening the child with her words.

Gulping, Harry took the pinch and slowly made his way to the fireplace. Throwing the powder in the hearth carefully, he watched in amazement as the flames indeed turned green in a marvellous show of colours worthy of one of these firework displays he once spied in his uncle's television.

"Wicked..." he whispered before walking carefully into the flames and shouting: 'Leaky Cauldron!' as clearly and loudly as he could. In a dizzying series of turns, he found himself propulsed through space, painfully falling on his hands and knees in a strange pub.

Slowly righting himself and dusting his overlarge clothing, Harry was forced to quickly walk forward a few steps as Mrs. Figg was herself thrown in the pub by the green flames. Managing not to fall (He would have to ask her how she did so later) she smiled a toothless smile his way as she dusted herself.

"Good! You made it!" She exclaimed as she dragged him to the barman by the arm, reminding him unpleasantly of who did so the last time. He still had that bruise from Vernon's tight grasp as he threw him inside his cupboard.

"Hullo there, Arabella! The usual?" The barman said, mouth as toothless than Figg's.

"Not right now, Tom, I have to go shop for a few things, could you lead the way to Diagon Alley for me?" Mrs. Figg said, smiling and batting her eyes coquettishly at the man, making Harry feel a little sick at the flirting. They must be at least eighty years old! Yuck!

"Of course my lady!" Tom exclaimed, leading the way to the backyard and to a brick wall, to the confusion of the Boy-Who-Lived. That confusion soon cleared into amazement as, after poking some bricks with a stick that was surely a wand, the wall transformed into an archway leading to a busy street full of chops and strangely clothed people.

"Wow..." Harry whispered, attracting Tom's notice for the first time. Quickly finding the cursed scar on the boy's brow, Tom gasped.

"Harry Potter!" He exclaimed, thankfully quietly enough for Arabella's shushing motions to prevent the boy from discovery.

"A glamour for that scar would be nice as well, dear" Mrs. Figg intoned sweetly, with a sharp edge beneath her words.

"O-of course!" The barman spluttered, doing as asked. "There you go, have a nice trip!" Tom said, bowing to Harry and quickly getting back into his pub.

"Now come, my boy, we must first get you a wand!" Arabella said, smiling at her temporary charge as she led him through the heave thong of witches and wizards and into a dark and dusty shop near a grand building seemingly made of gold and white marble and guarded by strange and short creatures in heavy armour. He took note of those, as well.

The shop was cramped, full of long, thin boxes of varying lengths with a small bench facing a n even smaller counter with an antique cash register on top of it. Motes of dust floated through a scarce amount of light entering through the grimy windows. The entire place smelled of wood and varnish.

"Welcome!" Said an ethereal voice just behind the two shoppers, making them nearly jump out of their skins. There was no one there merely a second ago!

Turning around, they found a pale old mad with strangely pale eyes, seeming to look into their very souls. Harry gulped once more.

"Ah! Mr. Potter! Yes, I've been expecting you..."

* * *

Their galleon pouch seven galleon lighter and with Harry the proud new owner of a Holly wand with a Phoenix Feather core, the boy asked one of the questions that had been plaguing his mind for an hour now;

"What's that building over there? The white one with the funny men in armour?" He enquired, head slightly bent to the side in askance, his round and taped up glasses slightly askew on his nose.

"Oh, that's Gringott's, the magical world's bank!" Arabella answered distractedly, trying to make their way through the crowd and into Flourish and Blotts.

"A bank? Can we go there, Mrs. Figg? I want to see if my parents left anything there!" Harry implorer, desperate to have at least something belonging to his parents.

"Oh, my poor boy! Of course, but only after we are finished shopping, Gringott's open all day long, you know?" Figg said, shooting a tremulous smile Harry's way.

A trip to the bookshop followed to one for one to the Apothecary, Wizarding Supplies and finally for an owl found Harry ready for his magical education. They even brought dragon hide gloves! All his purchases were featherlight as well, preventing him from having problem dragging them around, at least until the charm would fail in a day or two...

Now before Gringotts, Harry was quite intimidated by both the armed goblins and the frightful warning on the bronze doors.

* * *

**AN: Stay Tuned for _Chapter Four: Goblin Associations_! I know I kinda swiped the purchases under the carpet but I will look over them further when Harry will, in his new room. You didn't think I would have left them in the cupboard until he was seventeen, right?**


	5. Chapter Four: Goblin Associations

**Disclaimer: **_Anything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling._

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Mysterious Benefactor**

_**By Smirking Menace**_

**Chapter Four: Goblin Associations**

Gringotts Wizarding Bank was even more imposing on the inside as it was on the outside, a vast lobby hidden by two sets of heavy doors, one made of bronze and the other, silver. Harry was especially impressed by the vaulted ceiling, made of numerous precious gems and metals representing various wars, no doubt fought by the same creatures he saw sneering behind great marble counters. As they walked to one of what the boy assumed to be a teller, Mrs. Figg whispered to him, too low to be heard by anyone else but himself.

"Those are goblin, you may do well to be on their good side." She said softly, looking more nervous than he ever saw her in their years of acquaintance.

Nodding, the young Potter slowly approached his destination and said to the short creature: "Good morning, I would like to know if my parents left me anything before their deaths" Harry said as confidently as he could, his voice nevertheless shifting in pitch midway due to his nervousness. Those teeth looked lethal!

"Name?" Sneered the creature with a name-tag on his chest identifying him as a certain 'Griphook'. Were they all named like that?

"Harry Potter, sir" Was the squeaky answer, unknowingly reminding the goblin of an house elf and making sneer as he processed the information.

"Aren't you all. We need proof, 'Mr. Potter'. Where is your key?" Said the skeptical creature, looking the boy up and down with a dubious expression on his pointy face.

"Ah! Oh course, here!" Interjected the squib Arabella as she rummaged through her purse and collected a brilliant golden key that she gave to the goblin who proceeded to inspect it with a monocle.

"Mhm, that seems genuine. Right then, follow me. Do not tarry or you will be eaten by one of our guardian dragons!" Said the goblin with relish, obliviously delighting in the terrified look his remark generated.

The trio walked down some stairs and arrived near a railroad the seemed to go into an abyss as far as the two humans were concerned. Whistling sharply, Griphook summoned a small mine cart that seemed to be gifted with life by the way it wriggled around as if it couldn't wait to be used. Gesturing for his charges to get into the cart, the goblin swiftly sat himself in it's front and whistled sharply again, saying something in what seemed gibberish to Harry that made the cart speed up in what was the most exciting ride of his young deprived life.

Much too soon in the young boy's opinion they were before an imposing vault without having seen any dragon to Harry's mixed relief and disappointment. On one hand, it was a dragon, on another IT WAS A DRAGON! How wicked was that?!

After an ominous promise of dying in his family's vault should he touch it's door and a fancy bit of magic, Harry found himself before piles upon pile of shiny coins. The fact that he was now filthy rich took a time to sink in followed by the thought that he should never say a word of it to the Dursley lest he be robbed blind. After ten full seconds jumping up and down in glee of his new-found fortune, the young wizard finally noticed something even more precious to him.

Pictures of his parents with or without him in their arms.

Feeling chocked with tears all of a sudden, he approached the picture that seemed to move and wave at him, smiling, with an unsteady gait. It had to be his parent, he was sure of it! The man looked like him and the woman had his eyes... or was it the other way around?

Taking the time to leaf through the entire stack which also contained what he assumed were his paternal grandparents and even some ancestors in the form of talking portrait took some time. Nearly an hour passed before he pocketed a few photographs and walked back to the annoyed goblin.

"I want to see my account manager. I have one... right?" Harry asked more than ordered, unsure if he really had such a person at his disposal.

"Of course, Mr. Potter" Griphook sneered, rolling his eyes and muttering something in the same gibberish he heard earlier. Gobbledygook, he would learn later.

Another cart ride later and they were before imposing golden doors with a plaque reading 'Account Manager Ragnok' on it's centre. Knocking trice, Griphook said something incomprehensible once more and opened the door, sharply gesturing for the two humans to enter before leaving them to their fate.

"Enter, Mr. Potter" Was ordered by another goblin in a fancy three piece suit sitting behind an imposing desk of what seemed priceless metals. This one had glasses instead of a monocle on his pointy nose and looked even more annoyed than Griphook. They did look similar to Harry though... were they related?

Shaking the thought out of his head, Harry came to sit on a comfortable-looking chair and made himself as comfortable as he would dare when glared at by such a scary creature.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Potter?" Said said scary creature as soon as the awkward looking Mrs. Figg sat herself beside her charge.

"I would like to know about my assets and my rights. I am not happy with my current living arrangements and would like to know if it could be changed...?" Said Harry in an increasingly pleading tone to his voice, hoping that he could be free from the Dursleys now that he was rich.

"You do not have access to your proprieties until you are of age but are the owner of various villas, castles, houses and commerce around Europe and can access up to two hundred galleons a year until you are of age in which you will be the sole beneficiary of the Potter House, one of the oldest Houses in the magical world. Right now your House is the forty-seventh most wealthy house in the world and owns a good part of Saint Mungo to which I would suggest you visit. You look horrible, Mr. Potter."

Feeling a bit miffed about the last comment and curious about it, Harry asked: "What is Saint Mungo?"

"Great Britain's foremost magical hospital, Harry. And I suppose we could get you checked for your vaccines in about a week..." Said the previously forgotten Arabella Figgs, making Harry jump about a feet in the air in fright by the suddenness of her interjection.

"I would like that..." '...and should have gone there ages ago!' finished Harry in his thoughts. ...That reminded him...

"Do you provide security? I noticed you looked like a warrior race..." Questioned the young heir, still not completely over the fact that he owned anything of worth.

"For a fee... and that fee gets bigger if we need to hide." Said Ragnok with a dangerous smile. "Do you require it, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, I would like a goblin to protect me from abuse by my muggles relatives." Said Harry, warming up to the word as it separated him from the Dursleys.

"Abuse?! But that can't be right!" Exclaimed Arabella only to be ignored by the other two.

"That would be hundred galleon for one goblin guard, Mr. Potter. Is that acceptable?"

"Yes, when can we start?"

"Right now." Finished the goblin, snapping his finger and talking in Gobbledygook to a goblin that appeared at his door.

"This is Crackknuckle, he will be your guard from today on. We will take his wage directly from your vault, Mr. Potter. Pleasure doing business with you." Said Ragnok with a nasty smile as he pushed the two humans and the other goblin out of his office, closing his doors in their face.

"Wicked..." Said harry, looking at the heavily armoured goblin that seemed to dissapear before his eyes.

"Where did he go?" He asked, confused.

"I am disillusioned, Mr. Potter, no one will see me without a certain type of spell, permitting me to follow you anywhere." Said Crackknuckle with a disembodied voice.

"Wicked..." The boy said once more, starstruck.

"Come on Harry, we have much to shop for! I can't believe you think you need a guard, there is plen... nevermind that!" Huffed Figgs, nearly slipping something Harry was sure was important. Frowning at the slip, he was however soon distracted by the various marvels that were displayed in Diagon Alley.

It would wait, but he would not forget.

* * *

**AN: Stay tuned for Chapter Five: Body and Mind!**


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